Miss You
by Magichild
Summary: Newly Ace, Rimmer follows a distress call to find not just a damsel in distress, but one of the former crew mates of one of his predecessors. Can have R/L implications to the end, if you want to read it that way.


_Sorry if this is a little out of character - it was a dream I had last night that made me feel sad all day. Had to write it out before going to bed._

* * *

Rimmer was not a great Ace. It just...wasn't part of his make up. Of course he knew, in theory, that he _was _Ace, it was only a little divergence in the timelines that separated them. But somewhere between his childhood and now, in the 3 million years or so, something very un-Ace like had definitely set itself firmly into place.

'_They all made it sound sooo easy_' he seethed to himself, desperately trying to keep his ship under control as he was thrown around, trying to get fast enough to break through into another dimension. He should have known he couldn't do it, he should have stayed.

Lister probably knew all along he wasn't up to the job. They just wanted him to fail. Just wanted him to _leave._

He was about to spiral into yet another bout of depression and blame based fingerpointing, but at that moment the ship put on a huge, violent burst of speed, almost throwing him out of his chair. Clinging on to the rim of the main control panel he managed to pull himself back into his seat.

"What on earth was that you ... computer?" he snarled.

"We hit faster than the speed of time Arnold." the disembodied voice of the ships computer replied, with obvious distaste. Rimmer was sure that the ship hadn't called any of the other Aces 'Arnold'.

"Well, fine, just...find the ship alright."

They were tracking down a ship's distress becon. The vessel was apparently out of fuel, stuck in deep space. A crew of one. That one being, to Rimmer's delight and horror, female.

That was another thing he hadn't gotten the hang off. He had the hair, he had the shades, the suit, the name, but still every woman he came across thought he was a shiny goit in a wig. Each time he would get excited, finally he was going to rescue a smoking hot damsel in distress who would be _very_ grateful. But it was always the same look, as if he were wearing Lister's underpants.

As the blinding, impossible colors of the inter-dimensional tear they had punched through faded around them, the ship finally came into view. It was small, definitely not intended to hold a crew of more than 20, 30 at most, but it looked far more advanced that his own.

Tentatively, he sent a request to land to the ship's computer, which was automatically accepted, and he maneuvered a perfect landing into the landing bay. That, he had mastered. It was only when he'd get out they'd be disappointed.

* * *

"Hello?" he called out into the dark corridor leading into the ship, for a moment forgetting to do The Voice. He'd been getting a lot better at staying in character, but there was something about dark corridors in abandoned space vessels that brought the coward in him right out. He coughed, and tried again.

"It's Ace here, Ace Rimmer. I heard your distress call and I thought I'd drop by to answer your prayers."

There was still no answer, but doing the Ace act encouraged him to step forwards into the gloom. After all, the woman might be watching. No need to bugger it all up before they even met face to face.

It looked like large parts of the ship had just been left to rot - there were exposed cables, rusted components and pools of probably vital mechanical fluids scattered all over the floor. The ship must have been in a bad way for some time. He wondered what had happened to the rest of the crew to leave only one...but that thought was answered with all the nasty things he had ever dreamed of - and encountered - in space, so he tried to concentrate on being sexy and charismatic instead.

That was when it all went tits up and he slipped in a pool of oil, smashing his left side into some kind of machine with lots of pokey out bits. His wig also went flying off into some dark corner.

"SMEG" he whispered, rubbing his elbow and looking around frantically.

"ARNIE?"

He looked up like a rabbit in the headlights. Someone had said his name. Not Ace, not Rimmer even.

He could hear boots running along the corridor in front of him, and he renewed his efforts to find his wig.

"You came back."

At the end of the corridor stood a woman, a little taller than him, and quite plain. He was disappointed, but really, it wasn't like he was getting any other offers so he might as well try his luck. But most of all, he was confused.

"I did?" he asked quizzically, pointing at himself, as if wondering if she were talking to someone else.

She stopped short, her face cycling through emotions at a million miles an hour. When she had come around the corner she had looked shocked, scared even, and then adoring. But as soon as he had spoken her face fell, crumpled almost.

They stood in silence, looking at each other for a moment, and then she began to cry. Big, almost screaming tears and gulps.

This was the worst any of his damsel rescues had gone so far. He hadn't made them sob hysterically at the very sight of him before, just sneer. Flustered, he tried to regain his Ace-ness and comfort her, but she shoved him away with surprising strength.

"Get lost you jumped up shiny, smegheaded, self absorbed, smeghead." she yelled, switching from tears to anger as quickly as she had gone from adoration to despair. This was, at least, more familiar territory for Rimmer.

"What did I do, you PMSin-" he began in his usual nasal tones, before remembering exactly what he was meant to be doing, and who he was meant to be.

She broke into tears yet again, and fled. At an absolute loss, he followed her through the dim corridors until he broke out into what looked like a cabin, and stopped dead.

It was him. Everywhere it was him. Photos and drawings were pinned up on the walls, his diaries were on the bookshelf, even his stuff was lying around the bunk. This wasn't possible. There was even his old bear, Napoleon, lying on the top bunk of the bed, who had been lost along with Red Dwarf. How did she get hold of all of these things? How did she have those photos?

"What is going on?" he asked, staring around, still in shock. It looked like she had made a Rimmer shrine.

"Go away" she repeated, but this time with a lot less force. It looked like she was in another bout of sadness. Rimmer approached her with caution, expecting her to explode again any second.

"How did you get all of this stuff? _My_ stuff?"

"It's not your stuff."

"It bloody well is." he insisted, walking over to his diaries on the shelf. He opened it, expecting to quote it to her, and stopped short. It _wasn't_ his stuff. The diary was barely filled, as if he hadn't been bothered to put the time into it. It talked about people whose names he didn't recognize, and places he hadn't been. He flicked through it, faster and faster, trying to find something familiar.

"Please don't break that," the woman snapped, or rather, she was trying to snap, but there was a note of sadness and pleading in there too.

"What's going on?" he asked again, setting the book aside.

"This used to be the bunk room of one of the other Arnold Rimmers." she said at last, not looking at him. "He left to be ...Ace. Like you."

She spat the name 'Ace' with venom.

"Another Ace?"

"Yeah."

He looked around again.

"But if he left, what are you doing with all of this stuff lying around? Why are you here on your own, what happened?"

"Just go" she said again. This time there was no force behind her words at all.

" I can't just leave you on your own, on a rotting ship!" he protested.

"You can. He did."

_Ah_ he thought. It explained a lot, although at the same time not much at all. He wanted to ask questions, but he was afraid she'd start crying again. It turned out that he didn't need too, as she carried on talking anyway, as if to herself.

"We did everything together. We joined the Space Corps at the same time, and we both volunteered to go on this mission. We were looking for aliens...we both thought they were out there. Once he passed his Astro Navs we were able to go together. We were going to find whole new worlds. And then when it came to the crunch, he left me."

Rimmer's face soured. AstroNavs. They all passed them, every single smegging one of them but him, he was sure of it.

"So he was an...officer...then?" he said, trying to keep his loathing out of his voice.

"Yeah, thanks to me. I sat with him, I _sat with him every night_ for _months_ going through the material. I waited for him outside during every exam, telling him he was going to do it one day."

"Er...how many times was that?"

"What does it matter? 12 I think."

Rimmer glowed with smugness, but at her words he felt a little cold hurt in his heart. No one had ever believed in _him. _But he was forgetting just how perfect all of his other versions were.

"He wasn't fond of telegraph poles was he?" he asked in a monotone, knowing the answer.

"He used to show me his slides for fun all the time. It showed his character, that he wasn't afraid to like something unusual. He saw the beauty an design behind the mundane." She sniffed, trying not to cry. "Can we please not talk about this?"

A part of Rimmer, the part that might, just might, have been Ace, didn't want to press it any further. But he had to know - had this Rimmer been a failure too?

"What about Hammond Organs? Morris dancing? Christian rock?"

"We used to have music nights" she whispered. "I would play the organ while he morris danced. It was hard to do on your own, but we didn't mind. I still can't stand to play any of the CDs we recorded together."

"You actually like all that stuff?" he asked, half skeptical, half amazed.

She looked up at him for the first time since he entered the room. "Yeah."

There was no trace of insincerity in her face, and he sank to the bed shellshocked. This woman (_woman!) _actually liked all of the same smeggy things he did. What on earth had motivated his other self to leave and become Ace when he was so obviously loved? So obviously lucky to have found that one in a trillion girl who was exactly what he had wanted. His alternate self had shown her his telegraph pole sides, and it had _worked_.

"Er...what about Risk?" he asked at last.

She waved her had in the area of the bookshelf sadly. "There's a log of every game we ever played on the book shelf there. Volumes 1 -19."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Your Arnold was an absolute smeghead."

"_I miss him.'" _

He looked around the bunk room, at the photos on the wall, the belongings carefully kept on the shelf as if his other self was going to come back any minute. It struck him then, that for him to be here, that other Rimmer was dead. This woman had been waiting for a dead man.

"Is...is there anyone back home missing _you _Ace?"

He thought back. The Cat had never liked him, and even if he had, he was too self centered to care about someone not being around. Kryten had never liked him either. And that left Lister. Lister who ate his toe nails and put onions on his cornflakes. Lister who had made his life hell, Lister who had built him up and shattered him again on that psi moon without caring. Lister who had _wanted _ him to go and be Ace.

He looked down at the gently crying woman sitting on the floor by the bunk, and felt a shadow of her pain.

"No one."


End file.
